We all know how automation--a form of robotics, if you will--can
make a difference in our lives. The I.B.M. tech-help phone line
tells us that our call is important to them and proves it by playing
a half hour of Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons" while we wait for the
attention of a mere mortal. We wheel our S.U.V. into the car
wash and watch as large arms reach out to apply soap, water
and wax to our vehicle and brush up our advanced transportation
without the need for people to do much more than push some
buttons. An invisible hand reaches out to pick out the pins in the
local bowling alley which we have maliciously knocked down as
we pitch strike after strike. Even the very car that we get
polished up without the need for the intervention of people is put
together by robots. What can we expect robotics to do in the
decades that lie ahead in our new century?

In a sci-fi film which marries the detached, epic vision of
Stanley Kubrick to the sentimental child-centered themes of
Steven Spielberg, "A.I.: Artificial Intelligence," shows us in an
awe-inspiring way how robots can be used to help us emotionally
as well as physically. In a world that finds love in short supply, it
was only a matter of time before some scientific genius would
transcend the current rage of cloning by creating a mechanical
child equipped without the strength needed to assemble a car but
with the more important vitality of love. As that scientist,
Professor Hobby (William Hurt) tells an assemblage of his peers
at the corporation of which he is the creative director about the
importance of receiving affection: "God made Adam to love Him."
In the brief opening moments of this fairly long film, anyone in the
audience with the slightest grasp of literature or of sentimental
filmmaking will realize that the a child-robot created with the
ability to give love will change not only the mother who craves
this affection but the boy himself (or itself).

"A.I.: Artificial Intelligence" was the final project conceived by
Stanley Kubrick to be screened some time after what became the
late, great director's swan song, "Eyes Wide Shut." Kubrick had
taken his good friend Steven Spielberg into his confidence to
discuss a story about an advanced technology, one which would
blend science (the creation of robots to do jobs that human
beings would prefer not to do) and humanity (the creation of
robots to furnish emotional warmth to those who choose to buy
them). After Kubrick's death, Spielberg took over the project
which one producer calls an attempt by him to "embrace and pay
homage to Stanley." To those in the audience who are familiar
with works such as "E.T." and "Jurassic Park"--the latter
focusing on the grandchildren of paleontologists who tag along
with the scientists to inspect an island amusement park not
realizing that anything can go wrong--the picture that now
emerges looks mostly like Spielberg's, but not without the
insistent entrace of Kubrick's motifs.

A fifty-minute sequence takes place largely within the
comfortable suburban home of a young couple, Henry Swinton
(Sam Robards) and his wife Monica (Frances O'Connor). Since
their only son, a fatally ill Martin (Jake Thomas) has been
cryogenically frozen pending such time as a cure can be found
for his disease, they long for another boy to love. Their dream
comes true as Henry surprises his wife by buying an android
named David (Haley Joel Osment) from the scientist Dr. Hobby
(William Hurt) during a period of declining resources and limited
land space causing the government to restrict the growth of
human population. Like Pinocchio--which is one among many
fables that are called upon to inform the movie's motifs--David
decides that in return for the love he is giving, he wants love in
return. The only way to get this affection is to become a real boy
himself. He will ultimately devote quite a bit of time to this quest.

This initial segment in what is obviously a sci-fi tale is
surprisingly the most compelling despite its sappiness, perhaps
because after David is introduced to his new owners, and later to
a now-recovered "brother" Martin, Mr. Spielberg appears to take
a long break, handing the movie over to the Kubrick touch. The
middle segment of what is really a trilogy, all centered on David,
is cold, detached, unemotional, as we are introduced to two
locations that are futuristic but not representing the sort of
prospect that most of us would welcome. (Some spoilers follow.)
After David is tearfully abandoned by Monica together with a
cuddly robotic bear named Teddy (voice of Jack Angel) which
steals every scene in which he appears, he is transported to a
couple of ticky-tacky locations that only Mad Max could love. He
meets with and ultimately saves the life of Gigolo Joe (Jude
Law), a robot designed to give massages to the ladies and then
some, an automaton who tells his customers that after a session
with him they will never again want a real man. He does not
even need a CD player to help seduce the women. He merely
shakes his head to one side and out comes romantic music.
When a robot-hating Luddite named Lord Johnson-Johnson
(Brendan Gleeson) emcees a killing field within a stadium that
could have been the arena for "Gladiator"--shooting the trapped
robots out from cannons into fiery deaths (which could give the
kiddies attending the movie nightmares)--David leads Joe to
safety and continues his odyssey in search of the Blue Fairy,
who like the Wizard of Oz is said to be able to fulfill his dream
and turn him into other than he now is.

There are numerous references to fables in addition to The
Wizard of Oz and Pinocchio, some self-referential, as Spielberg
winks at the audience challenging us to catch them. One place is
called "Strangelove's" while the mayhem in Lord Johnson-
Johnson's emporium reminds us of "A Clockwork Orange." The
execution of the obsolete robots calls to mind the termination of
people over 30 years old in "Logan's Run," while the general
concept often recalls "Close Encounters of the Third Kind."

"A.I.: Artificial Intelligence" is photographed by Janusz
Kaminski for the most realistically, showing a future that aside
from the robots is not so much more advanced than our own era
and, in fact, given the research and results of cloning
experiments is hardly beyond the grasp of audience imagination.
The car which Monica uses to take David away, to dump him into
the countryside like an unwanted pet but with a warning to avoid
corporate employees who are instructed to destroy trashed toys,
is a cool vehicle but in no way one that cannot now be designed
if the powers-that-be wanted to take a leap forward by a decade
of so. Even the scene of New York, now submerged because of
melting ice caps, is recognizable by the Chrysler building which
majestically keeps its head out of the water defying the elements,
and considerable attention has been given to produce a
digitalized milieu inhabited by a citizenry alternately brutalized by
the spectacle of robots being malicious destroyed while some,
like the scientist Dr. Hobby, remain and compassionate.

Haley Joel Osment, twelve years old at the time of the filming,
has lost some of the cuteness that made him a compelling figure
in "The Sixth Sense," and in fact the movie was put on the fast
track to be complete in twenty weeks instead of the full year that
was originally planned because this wonderful young man is
quickly showing signs of physical maturity. He remains an
effective center for the story, showing more depth than even the
Australian actress Frances O'Connor in the role of the mother--
whose emotional depth consisted of being either teary-eyed or
ambivalent.

By the time we are taken to the final scene, which brings us to
a civilization two millennia ahead inhabited by figures looking as
though they could be at home on Venus, we may not be blamed
for wondering whether this craggy but generally imaginative and
visually splendid and mature picture has a single, all-embracing
motif. John Williams's music is annoyingly ubiquitous if varied
but does not provide a clue to the Kubrick-Spielberg design.
Nonetheless "A.I." is not a picture to ignore or pass up. This is
sci-fi in the seasoned, deliberately-paced spirit of "Contact" rather
than the absurdly childish productions such as the "Alien" series,
featuring a varied range of set designs, musical compositions,
situations, and moods.